Minds Over Matters
by Icabu
Summary: Luca's date makes trouble for SWAT    This story is not beta'd as I could not find a beta reader for SWAT. If anyone is willing, I have another story in progress and would like to run it through beta.
1. Chapter 1

The kiss had Dominic Luca's Italian blood boiling. He knew the others had been positively green with jealousy when this hot number picked him up after work in her sleek Jaguar. She had even let him drive it to the restaurant and laughed at his curb burn-out to show-off for the guys. The car was as hot as its owner.

Dinner had been overly expensive for Dom's tastes, but having the lovely Lauren to stare at for the whole hour and a half was worth just about any price. He drove to her place afterwards, more sedately this time. The mansion she had him park in front of was damn impressive.

Wrestling in the front seat of the Jag was a bit uncomfortable with the steering wheel and shift console, but they had managed to reach the heavy breathing stage.

"Why don't you come in for a night cap?" Lauren whispered on Dom's lips. Not waiting for his reply, she launched into another tongue-wrangling kiss that had Dom squirming in his leather-upholstered seat.

#

"White wine?" Lauren asked, already pouring two glasses.

"Uh, sure," Luca responded. He explored the opulent den in her very up-scale home. The house fit the car, which fit the woman, Dom thought.

Taking the wine glass Lauren held out to him, Dom's attention centered on the huge crystal chandelier above their heads. "This is some place you have here."

"I'm blessed with family." She raised her glass for a toast. "To family."

"Family," Dom repeated and tapped his glass to hers and sipped the cool, crisp wine.

"I'm not spoiled, Dom," Lauren stated. "I'm going to school. I will be my own person."

Looking into her beautiful eyes, Dom cooed, "I believe you already are." Her warm smile tripped his heart.

"To hard work and forging your own trails." She raised her glass for another toast.

Dom grinned and they tapped glasses again and drained them.

Lauren took their glasses back to the bar and refilled them. "Please, sit, Dom." She smiled at him over her shoulder. "Get comfortable."

"Where are you going to school?" he asked, sinking into the overstuffed leather couch. He stood when she joined him and took his glass. They sank together into the couch.

Before answering, Lauren kicked off her shoes, curled her legs on the couch, and leaned against Dom's chest. He draped his left arm over her shoulders.

"Walden," she answered.

"Ah." Dom was well versed in the area schools from Narco but had never been to Walden's campus. Either it didn't have a drug problem or the school handled it all in-house. Suddenly thirsty, he gulped down half of his wine.

"Ah?" Lauren's hand settled on Dom's thigh.

"Nice school," he said. He set his empty glass on a marble coaster on the end table. Feeling a little fuzzy, he would have to decline any more.

"Yes, it's nice," she murmured. "A little stuffy, though."

"What?" Dom couldn't understand what she was saying. Hell, he couldn't understand what he was saying. His vision turned to shades of gray and he felt a stab of panic.

#

"You're sure he's ready?"

"Yes. Actually, he took in more than I expected, but he'll be all right." Lauren adjusted the bright lights shining into Dominic Luca's face.

"Dom?"

"Muhhh…" Dom couldn't control his thick tongue.

"Just listen, Dom. It's imperative that you listen closely. Open your eyes, Dom."

Slowly, Dom pried his heavy lids apart, but not very far. The white brightness speared into his head. "Aaaaahhhhh!"

"Keep your eyes open, Dom. They'll adjust."

"Whaaat?" Dom knew this wasn't right, but he couldn't figure out what or why.

Lauren Shelton, Psychotherapy major at Walden University, held a thick, dark wand approximately three inches in front of Dom's face and slowly waved it back and forth, creating a dark shadow that ran across his eyes.

"Listen, Dom. Listen to what I have to say, every word."

Dom's eyes followed the dark against the painful white. Back and forth, back and forth, as the voice drilled deep into his subconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where's Luca?" SWAT Commander Lieutenant Dan Harrelson asked. He stood in front of the missing officer's desk.

Beside the empty desk, Officer Jim Street sat at his own desk, filling out one of the reams of forms duty called for. He glanced at his watch: ten past seven. No one had ever been late yet. He was glad it wasn't him.

"Last I saw him, he was peeling out in his lady's Jag after work last night," TJ McCabe said. He'd walked over to stand beside Jim, looking over at Luca's empty desk.

"Maybe he wrecked it?" Jim wondered aloud.

"Hospitals know to call me if any of you guys show up," Harrelson said brusquely.

Jim and TJ raised their eyebrows at their boss's revelation.

"Maybe that lady wrecked him," TJ broached. "Not the hospital kind of wreck," he added.

"You men realize how important it is for this unit to be fully operational at all times." Harrelson walked into his office and closed the door, abruptly.

Jim stood, pacing behind Dom's empty chair. TJ paced in front of the empty desk.

"Where do you think he is?" TJ asked Jim.

"Something had to happen to him," Jim said. "It's not like Dom."

One of TJ's eyebrows lifted.

"Not this." Jim pointed at the empty chair. "Not even Dom."

"You're right." TJ pounded his fist on Dom's desk. "Dammit!"

The pair resumed their thought filled pacing.

"Would you two sit down and get back to work?" Sgt. 'Deke' Kay barked. "Please," he amended.

Reluctantly, Jim and TJ return to their desks and sat. Both stared at the forms on their desks, their thoughts far from the boring papers.

Several minutes later, a ruckus at the top of the stairs turned into a harried and rushing Dominic Luca half-falling down the stairs to the SWAT control room.

Jim and TJ rushed over to him, helping him over to his locker.

Harrelson came out of his office. "Back to your desks, guys."

TJ and Jim left Dom and slowly returned to their desks, standing by.

Harrelson approached the rumpled Luca. Deke hovered nearby.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Harrelson demanded.

Dom gave his Commander a stricken look. He raised and lowered his arms in defeat. "I wish I could tell you, Lieutenant. I really do." Dom shook his head. "I don't know what happened."

Something in Dom's demeanor appeared to break through to Harrelson. He took Luca by the arm and brought him over to the desk area.

Jim pulled his chair out for Dom to slide into.

"Okay, Luca. From the beginning." Harrelson stood, arms crossed, in front of Dom. "I want everything you remember. All the details." He cleared his throat. "Even the embarrassing ones."

Dom breezed through his evening until he got to the wine drinking in Lauren's den. "That's where it gets fuzzy, Lieutenant." Dom lowered his head on his folded arms on top of Jim's desk. "I swear it was only two glasses of wine, but the headache I have makes it seem like an entire vat."

"How'd you get here?" Jim asked.

Dom raised his head, looking totally confused for a minute. "I took a cab."

"Where's this Lauren now?" Harrelson asked.

Dom held his pounding head in his hands. "Uh, she left a note. It said she had to run to New York City this morning."

"Did it say when she's returning?" asked Deke.

Dom rubbed his palms over his eyes. "No. The note didn't mention a return date."

Harrelson paced up and down the aisle between the two neat rows of desks. "Obviously, something happened to you." He stared at the young officer. "You look like hell."

"Feel like it, too, sir," Dom said meekly.

"Street. Take him up to Valley General. I'll call Doc Morgan. You should be able to get him right in. See if they can determine if he'd been drugged, probably with the wine."

"Yes, sir," Jim said. He got his arm under Dom's and pulled him out of the chair.

"Street. Call me when you know something," Harrelson instructed.

"Yes, sir."

#

"Pull over, Jim. Now!" Dom called out urgently.

Seeing Dom's pale and sweating face, Jim pulled his car onto the gravel shoulder. Before he had the car completely stopped, Dom had the door open, vomiting. The car door swung wide and Jim grabbed the back of Dom's shirt to keep him from falling out of the car.

After a couple of draining dry-heaves, Dom reached out for Jim's hand to pull him up. Sitting up again, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Shit," he gasped.

"You done?" Jim asked.

Catching his breath, Dom looked at Jim. He'd almost expected him to be smirking. The concerned look on Jim's face made him realize he wasn't suffering from just another rough hangover after too much fun. He'd lost an entire night with no clue as to what he'd done or had done to him. He shivered.

"Yeah, I'm done." He reached out and pulled the door closed, surprised at how much effort it took. "You think I'm done with the Lieutenant and SWAT, too?"

Jim waited for a car to pass and pulled onto the roadway, continuing to the hospital as ordered. "I think the Lieutenant believes you're a victim. He needs to know if it's because you're Dominic Luca, the Italian Flash or because you're a member of the most elite police squadron in the department."

Dom sighed and lay his head against the seat back. "I guess what happens to me next depends on that outcome."

"Maybe."

#

"Lieutenant," Jim Street said, using a pay phone in the Valley General waiting room. "The doc has Luca on a bottle of juice, he was a little dehydrated. He took blood, but won't know the results until the lab is done with it. Doc doesn't expect to find anything, though."

"Oh? Why's that?" Harrelson asked.

"Doc said that the type of drugs used to do this kind of stuff don't stay in your system very long," Jim responded.

"If Luca is up to it, bring him back here when Doc releases him," Harrelson said.

"Yes, sir."

#

Pacing between the rows of desks, Harrelson addressed his team. "We're pretty sure Luca has been compromised." He gave the pale, but improving, young man a stern, but caring, glance. "We don't know how or what was done.

"Did they use a truth serum? Did he tell them things about our methods or a job we have coming up?"

"We have that escort job on Friday," Jim said.

"Yes," Harrelson agreed. "There are a lot of nervous syndicate members over what Chase Blackstone has to say to the DA."

"Timing is right to make a play on that," TJ added.

"It's a good starting point," Harrelson said. "We'll have to be extra vigilant until we get this figured out. I want you all to keep a close watch on Luca." Harrelson paused to look at each man, including Luca. "Since there is so much we don't know we'll have to watch everything. I want Luca to know we're watching. I want him watching himself." Harrelson looked at everyone again. "I want to know anything, and I do mean anything, that might be different about Luca's behavior."

Everyone in the room turned to Luca, who didn't shrink from the focus.

"We won't let him hurt anyone or himself," Deke said.


	3. Chapter 3

"Let's go," Harrelson called as he charged out of his office. "Divorced father holding his three-year-old daughter hostage in his house. Out on Grandview. Father has his deer rifle according to the child's mother."

The team jumped up and ran to the armory, removing their uniform belts on the way. Quickly selecting their arms, they ran for the War Wagon that Sam already had idling.

Swaying in the back of the van, the team transformed into the department's elite force.

"Has the father shot anyone yet?" Jim asked.

Harrelson sat the radio mike down after talking with the incident commander. "One warning shot aimed into the air."

"Caliber?" TJ asked.

"Unknown. Olympic 20 thought it was probably a .243, Model 70," Harrelson said, shrugging into his vest. "So I want all of you to stay back until we scope the situation."

Jim instinctively rubbed his chest where he'd taken a couple of handgun shots from a lovelorn sniper.

"That rifle would do a bit more than bruise if it hit your vest," Harrelson said, pointing toward Street.

The van stopped and the team poured out, taking defensive positions until the situation was assessed. Olympic 20 walked over to Harrelson.

"Man in the house is Ben Harding. His wife is divorcing him and wants sole custody of their daughter, Emily. His wife, Sharon, went to the store this morning and when she came back Ben had all the doors barricaded and had his gun out, shouting that she couldn't keep him from seeing his daughter."

"Can I put a man on the roof of this neighbor's house?" Harrelson asked.

"Sure can, Lieutenant," Olympic 20 answered. "We have all these houses evacuated."

"Good. Go McCabe."

"Street. Get me a perimeter," Harrelson ordered.

"Yes, sir," Jim acknowledged, stealth running around the property.

"Luca. Talk to the wife and get all the information she has about this man, the daughter too."

"Right." Dom went over to the squad car that held Sharon Harding and joined her in the back seat.

Harrelson grabbed his bullhorn and walked out in front of the squad cars. "In the house, Ben Harding, this is the police. We want you to release the girl, Emily. Then we want you to throw out the gun and come out with your hands on your head. Do you understand?"

"I hear ya," the man growled from a partially open window. "They can't keep me from seeing my daughter. They just can't do that. It ain't right."

Jim Street returned from his perimeter search and crouched behind the front fender of the squad car nearest Harrelson.

"No one wants to keep your daughter away from you, Ben," Harrelson said. "There's a process you have to go through, that's all."

"I don't want no divorce either," Ben yelled from the house. "That's all her doing. She went and got herself a boyfriend. I'd trade Emily for that bastard."

Harrelson shook his head. Sometimes even he was surprised. "No, Ben. We can't do that. We need you to let Emily go and come on out."

"We ain't going anywhere. Emmy's favorite show is on. She won't leave."

Harrelson turned to Street. "You see anything?"

"Back patio has a sliding glass door. He has furniture in front of it. First floor windows are all barred. Basement window isn't blocked, no other outside access to the basement," Jim reported.

"Good. We'll keep that basement window in mind," Harrelson said.

"Luca?"

"Sharon Harding is in rough shape, as you can imagine." Dom drew a deep breath. "She does have a boyfriend. A cop with Sunset division. Seems Ben in there has been drinking a lot lately and took to hitting Sharon. The cop she's seeing now helped her get the divorce started and with Ben's violence, the state wanted to keep the girl away from him."

Harrelson ran his hand over his face. "This could be a powder keg. Get with Olympic 20 and give him the boyfriend's name. Let's neutralize that before it gets out of hand. We don't need a vigilante cop coming on scene to save the day for his girl and her kid."

"Yes, sir." Dom ran to the scene command post.

"Street. See if you can get that basement window open, very quietly," Harrelson ordered.

"Right." Jim headed for the van for tools, then ran to the rear of the house.

"Boyfriend's on duty, Lieutenant," Dom reported. "Sunset's bringing him in and will hold him until this is resolved."

"Good. That's one less worry." Harrelson studied the house for a moment. "Luca. Station in the bushes by the front door. If he releases the girl, grab her and get her out of there as fast as you can."

"Yes, sir." Dom crouched and ran to the house from the side, settling in behind the front bushes.

Harrelson picked up his bullhorn again when his radio sounded.

"Lieutenant, Street. I have the basement window out. I can fit through it."

"Good," Harrelson said into his mike. "I'll keep Ben occupied up here. You go in and position yourself by the basement door. It should open into the kitchen. The living room, where Ben and the girl are will be to your left from that door."

"Right. I'm on my way in." Jim lowered himself through the narrow window, landing in a soft crouch. He reached back up for his rifle. Dodging toys and other debris, he made his way up the steep stairs and hunkered behind the kitchen door.

At the same time, Harrelson was back on his bullhorn. "Ben. You need to release the girl. This isn't good for her and I know you don't want anything bad to happen to her."

"Nothin's gonna happen to my Emmy. You better not hurt her," Ben yelled.

"We're not going to hurt Emily, Ben. But just look what you're doing. She shouldn't be held captive in your home." Harrelson mentally pictured Street's progress inside the house.

"Emmy's fine. Now go away so we can enjoy our time together. I want you all out of here NOW!"

"Street," Harrelson called over his radio. "Move into the kitchen. Be ready."

Jim just squawked his radio, not wanting to be heard and slowly opened the door. He sneaked to his left, keeping glued to the wall. He squawked his radio again to indicate he was in position. He peeked around the corner and saw the girl sitting on the couch watching TV. Ben was standing off the right side of the big living room window opposite the couch, his back to Jim.

Knowing his options wouldn't get better, Jim launched from the entryway into the living room and body slammed Ben. His momentum carried them both through the window and out onto the lawn. Ben's gun flew from his hands as he landed with Jim on top of him. Jim popped Ben across the chin, ending the struggle.

From the bushes, Dom jumped through the destroyed window after Jim and Ben flew out. He grabbed Emily off the couch and, shielding her as much as possible, pushed the couch away from the front door, and walked out with her. He took Emily straight to the command center where her mother eagerly grabbed her from him.

Afterwards, in the van, TJ worked at cleaning several cuts and scratches that Jim received going through the window. Jim winced as TJ dabbed a little too vigorously.

"Oh, don't be a baby, Jim," TJ teased. "It's only a scratch."

"You're making it feel like the Grand Canyon," Jim grumbled.

Harrelson got in and closed the door; the van took off.

"Damn good work, men," he said to the crew.

"You going to live?" Harrelson asked Street.

"Yes, Lieutenant. Just scratches," Jim said.

TJ and Dom laughed.

"How about you, Luca?" Harrelson asked.

"Feel great, Lieutenant," Dom answered. "Rescuing pretty girls is my specialty."

"Emily is about your speed now," Jim said.

Surprising everyone, Dom agreed. "After last night, I think you're right."

Everyone grabbed for handholds as the van swerved abruptly and came to a screeching stop. The radio crackled immediately with their driver's voice.

"Armed bank robbery occurring right in front of us!"

The team re-geared and jumped out in defensive posture. Immediately, gunfire erupted from the entrance of the bank. Not knowing if there were hostages or any innocent civilians in the area, Harrelson ordered the team to hold fire.

Squad cars wailed to stops around the bank and a standoff situation arose. Sgt. Nate Smith exited one of the squad cars and wove his way to Lt. Harrelson's position.

"What've we got, Hondo?" Nate asked.

"We happened by as the robbers were trying to make their escape. Don't know how many of them there are or how many potential hostages they have." Harrelson kept his gaze on the bank.

"Must be your lucky day. What's the plan?" asked Nate.

"Working on that," Harrelson muttered. "We were just returning from a hostage situation – resolved it without incident. My men are likely still keyed-up. I need to work this carefully to keep things from escalating out of control."

"Geez, Hondo," Nate exclaimed. "You guys are having a busy morning."

"You mean to tell me it's still morning?" joked Harrelson.

"Only for about twenty minutes longer," Nate assured.

"I'd like to position my marksman up on that store roof behind us," Harrelson said, hatching his plan.

"I'll go over and smooth things out with the manager and get everyone evacuated from these surrounding buildings," offered Nate.

Harrelson clapped Nate's shoulder. "That'd be a big help.

"McCabe," Harrelson called. The marksman appeared at his side. "Go with Sgt. Smith across the street and gain roof access at the grocery store. That should give you good access to anything going on out front of the bank."

"Yes, sir," TJ responded. He followed Nate across the street.

Deke crouched by Harrelson once TJ left. "Only other door is on the left side. Metal, reinforced. Windows are all barred. Not sure of the roof, we'd need building plans."

"Good. Get on the horn and see if we can get those plans. If this turns into a waiting game, we can take that time to get better prepared. See about getting a phone number for the bank lobby."

"Right," Deke acknowledged and ran for the van.

"Street. Luca." Harrelson paused while his officers joined him. "Street. There's a metal reinforced door on the left. Position so you can see it and the front. Stay out of sight to the inside."

Jim nodded and ran off to the left corner of the building.

"Luca. Take the right side of the entry. Close but not too close," Harrelson ordered.

"Yes, sir." Dom ran off to the right.

Deke rejoined Harrelson. "Plans are coming from the Planning Commission, ETA is twenty minutes." Deke took a quick breath. "HQ is calling the lobby. If anyone answers they'll patch it through to Nate's car."

"All right, it's coming together." Harrelson nodded. "I've got McCabe on the roof behind us." He looked up and back, seeing the black barrel of TJ's rifle poking over the eave. "Street is on the left corner, watching both doors. Luca is up front to the right. Watch for those plans. Look for roof access when they get here."

"Right." Deke made his way back to the van.

A lengthy ten minutes later, a squad officer called out. "Lt. Harrelson! Got a patch through from HQ for you."

Harrelson hustled through the crowd of police to Nate's squad car and took the radio mike. "This is Lt. Harrelson. Who am I talking to?"

"Listen, pig. You all had better clear out of here. Let us go."

Harrelson heard youth in the voice. That didn't please him. Inexperience, especially with robbery suspects, can lead to chaotic and unexpected actions. "And if we don't?" he asked. He could guess the answer easily enough.

"You stupid pig! I'll start pumping bullets in these upstanding citizens if you don't do as I say."

An idea flashed to Harrelson. "Tell you what," he said into the mike. "You write down your demands and send them out with one of those citizens. That way I'll know you're serious about working to get this situation resolved without anyone getting hurt." He paused a couple seconds. "You can write?"

The radio was quiet for a few heavy beats. Then another voice came across. "They hung up, Lieutenant. Do you want us to try to get them back on the line?"

"No. Not yet." Harrelson leaned against the roof of the car watching the front of the bank and hoping to see someone come out – soon.

The wait wasn't too long. The double glass doors at the bank's entrance opened and a middle-aged woman stumbled out. She held her hands high and sobbed hysterically while yelling, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

Once the woman cleared the steps, Dom left his concealed position and, shielding her with his body, half-carried her to the SWAT van.

Pinned to the front of the woman's blouse was the note from the robbers. Harrelson removed it, throwing it into the back of the van.

"Aren't you going to read it?" the woman said between sobs.

"Not really," Harrelson answered. "I have no intention of giving them anything they want."

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "They'll start shooting."

"We'll worry about that," Harrelson assured.

"No!" the woman screamed. "Let me go back, please! They have my daughter. She's only twelve."

Harrelson frowned. This was a nasty twist by the robbers, very nasty.

"Ma'am, can you tell me how many gunmen are in there?" Harrelson asked.

The woman blubbered for a couple of minutes, her teary eyes searching out everyone's face.

"Ma'am," Harrelson said gently, "your daughter and everyone in that bank needs you to help us so that we can help them."

"Three. There's three of them. They have big guns and hand guns," she cried and twisted her trembling hands together.

"How many hostages? Bank employees and customers."

"I'm not sure. Twelve or fifteen, maybe. My daughter's still in there!"

Harrelson gently grasped her arms. "We know, ma'am. Are all the hostages together? In the lobby?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so." She looked back at the bank. "My daughter…"

"We'll do our very best to get your daughter and everyone else out of there. I promise you that."

A squad car stopped beside the van and an officer delivered the floor plans for the bank.

Harrelson and Deke spread the plans out on the floor of the van, orienting them so that they faced like the building beside them.

"Ma'am," Harrelson started. "Can you point out where the gunmen are at in the lobby?"

The woman studied the plans and looked toward the building several times. She pointed on the paper. "The one with the long, blonde hair stayed up here, by the teller windows. He paced back and forth a lot." She studied the drawings more. "The short, mean one was over here, by the manager's office. The older one had the manager by the vault, over here. They were going through the deposit boxes."

"Wonderful. You did great." Harrelson passed the woman off to a female officer. He studied the plans with Deke.

"The bank owner gave us permission to cut any locks we need to gain entrance. He said the roof vents are locked closed," Deke reported.

"We can handle that," Harrelson said. "Look here." He pointed to a spot on the plans. "Drop in here." His finger traced down the paper. "Enter the ductwork here." He flipped to another page of the plans. "One man in this duct over the teller stations, one man here in the duct above the manager's office, and a third man here above the vault entrance."

"Then we drop in at the vents," Deke said.

"We'll have to be real careful about cross-fire and be sure of our targets. I don't want anyone but those gunmen hit." Harrelson crossed his arms. "What do you think?"

Deke studied the plans carefully. "It looks to be our best bet. It'll certainly be tricky."

"I'll send you in with Luca and Street and see if HQ can phone them – maybe get this diffused while everyone gets into position," Harrelson instructed.

"That'll work." Deke nodded.

"Street. Meet at the van. We have a plan," Harrelson said into his belt mike. "Luca." He motioned for him to join them.

The three SWAT officers easily accessed the bank's roof, cut the locks on the vent shafts with heavy-duty cutters, and dropped into the mechanical room. Using existing shelving, they climbed, prepared to enter the ductwork.

"Make your call. We're ready to enter the ducts," Deke whispered into his mike.

A few thumping heartbeats later, the trio heard a distant phone ringing. On cue, Jim pulled himself into the aluminum ductwork; his rifle slung over his back, and, on his stomach, pulled himself with his arms and pushed with his feet as quietly as a mouse. Dom followed, Deke brought up the rear after carefully replacing the vent they'd removed to get in.

Jim counted the number of side chutes he needed and carefully turned into the duct over the teller stations. Dom did the same for the manager's office and Deke veered off to the duct over the vault.

Peering through the vent slats, Jim could see the gunman pacing below him. He seemed nervous, likely on drugs. Jim knew that made him all the more dangerous. The gunman was only out of view for three seconds in his current pacing pattern. Jim watched and waited for the word to go.

Dom's gunman had taken a seat in the doorway of the manager's office. He was in plain view. Dom could also see a handful of hostages sitting on the floor nearby. That made him a little nervous. He watched and waited for the word to go.

Deke inched to the vent slats over the vault area. He couldn't see anyone, but heard where the gunman and the manager were inside the vault. He watched and waited.

The phone in the manager's office rang and rang. Finally, the man below Dom wheeled his chair back to the desk and grabbed the phone. "What do you want?" the gunman growled into the receiver while rolling his chair back to his post at the doorway. "No, we won't let any more hostages go. Not until all you pigs get out of here. You got ten minutes to get away from the bank – and I mean FAR away, too." He threw the receiver against the wall.

Jim's, Dom's, and Deke's radios all emitted three quick squawks. The three SWAT officers mentally counted to three, kicked out the vents, and dropped to the lobby floor. In the resulting chaos, four shots were fired, all by SWAT. From his crouch, Jim hit the longhaired gunman. Dom's bullet knocked his gunman backwards out of his chair. Deke's first shot hit a deposit box the vault gunman had just pulled out, his second shot downed the gunman.

"Three gunmen down," Deke said into his mike.

Police poured into the bank. None of the gunmen survived, no hostages were injured.

Harrelson strode in and stopped by Dom, still posted by his assigned gunman, and nodded. He moved on to where Jim stood by his assigned gunman, nodding again. Heading for the vault, Harrelson saw Deke kneeling on the floor performing CPR on the bank manager. He rushed in.

"Get the medics in here," Harrelson called out. "We have a heart attack!"

Harrelson pulled Deke back as a pair of the county's paramedics moved into the vault. They briefly looked at the gunman, but it was obvious he was beyond their help.

#

"It might have been an air conditioning duct, but I was sweating like crazy," Jim said, leaning back in his chair at his desk.

"I just knew I'd be sneezing up a storm and get us all shot full of holes," Dom added.

"Sounds crazy to me," TJ said. "How did you guys fit in there?"

"Just barely," Jim said.

They all laughed.

In his office, Harrelson looked out at his crew. "How did Luca do?" he asked Deke.

"Like nothing ever happened to him," Deke said. "No mistakes. No hesitation. His shot was spot on."

"And look at them now. Laughing and unwinding like normal." He tapped his pencil on his desk. "I still can't dismiss what happened, though."

"No," Deke agreed. "But it sure is strange."

"Well, it is Luca we're talking about." The phone rang and Harrelson picked it up, listened for a while, mumbled a "Thank you," and hung up.

"Well, there goes our perfect operation," he said.

"The manager?" Deke guessed.

Harrelson nodded. "He didn't make it. Massive heart attack."

Deke sighed. "Can't blame him – it was a bit stressful in there."

Harrelson stood. "Well, let's break up the party out there and go over these two operations. There's a lot to be learned from both of them."


	4. Chapter 4

"Pizza and beer sounds like the perfect ending to a day like today," Harrelson said to the trio of officers. "Unfortunately, my wife has other plans for my time. You guys have a good time – you've earned it today."

"Deke already skipped out on us," Dom said. "Married men …"

"Watch it, Dom," TJ said. "I'm signed up for that, just a matter of time."

"It really isn't all that bad," Harrelson said, climbing the steps to leave.

"At least Susan lets you have some fun," Dom said to TJ.

Watching Harrelson disappear, TJ said, "I don't think it's the wives holding them back, Dom."

"Are you saying that the Lieutenant and Sergeant would rather spend their off-time with their wives and families than the three of us?" Jim asked, laughing.

"I'd say that's a pretty safe bet." TJ closed his locker, now dressed as a civilian. "You guys ready?"

"More than ready," Jim said.

"I think I'll skip the partying, too," Dom said. "I'm kinda tired." He walked back to his desk. "I'll just finish these reports for the Lieutenant and head home."

"Come on, Dom," TJ said. "You don't want to make the ladies at Crazy Mary's miss out on the Italian Flash, do you?"

Dom grinned. "That is a shame." He shuffled the papers on his desk. "But it's probably best if I just finish up and go home."

"Nonsense," Jim said. "You gotta eat. Can't beat Mary's pizza."

"You're the crazy one, Jim," Dom said. "Everyone knows Mary's pizza is the worst in the city. The beer and the girls are the only reasons to go."

"All those girls … " TJ prompted.

"Look guys." Dom exhaled heavily. "I really appreciate the invite and all." He looked at TJ and then Jim. "But, I think I'm a little girl shy right now, if you know what I mean."

"We'll have to mark our calendars with that," Jim teased.

Dom threw his pen at Jim. "Get outta here. Let me get this work done."

"If you change your mind, you know where we'll be," TJ said as he and Jim exited up the stairs.

Stepping out into the nice evening, TJ and Jim tacitly decided to walk the three blocks to Crazy Mary's.

"I really think Dom needs to get back on the horse, you know?" TJ said.

"Yeah. He seemed pretty down once all the action was over," Jim agreed.

"Man. I still can't get over you guys in the ceiling. That's crazy, man." TJ shoved Jim, almost making him run into a utility pole.

"Hey!" Jim called, shoving TJ back, nearly having him collide with a tree.

"Was it claustrophobic in there?" asked TJ.

Jim snorted a laugh. "It was a little too intense to even think about that."

"Well, it worked and that's what really counts. Right?" TJ clapped Jim's shoulder.

"Yeah, that's what it comes down to," Jim agreed.

As they walked the final block to Crazy Mary's, Jim discreetly loosened his watchband and slid his watch into his pocket. He just couldn't shake the uneasy feeling he had concerning Dom.

"Hey," Jim said, stopping. "I left my watch in my locker. Can you get us a table and I'll be right back." He started back-stepping while tapping his bare wrist.

"Uh, sure," TJ said. "See you in a few."

Jim turned and jogged an easy pace back to the precinct. The building was quiet as the swing shift had already hit the streets. From the top of the steps leading to the SWAT Control Center, he heard their phone ringing and Dom pick up. He paused at the top of the stairs, wondering if SWAT would be called out. After a few moments, Dom hung up the phone – he hadn't said a word. With his uneasy feeling magnified, Jim went down the steps. Dom was standing by his desk looking very pale with oddly blank eyes.

"Hey, Dom," Jim called out. "I, uh, forgot my watch … in my locker."

Dom didn't respond, but kept his blank stare on Jim.

"Sure you don't want to join us?" Jim asked. He palmed his watch and pretended to reach for it inside his locker.

Jim started to turn around, hearing muffled footsteps. He raised his arm defensively when he caught a blur at the edge of his vision. The sharp crack to the side of his head turned his vision black.

#

Dominic Luca felt the change come over his body as soon as the voice on the phone spoke. He couldn't shake the enveloping, strangulating sensation. As the stream of words flowed into his ear, he felt the trigger in his brain click. His limbs trembled; his vision blurred. A single purpose consumed him, blocking out all other thoughts and feelings.

His arm automatically hung up the phone once the voice stopped.

Then Jim came down the steps. With shaking fingers, Dom pulled a paper from the pile on his desk and let it fall to the floor. Now he had to address Jim. His brain screamed at him to take care of Jim. Dom's hand reached for his pistol. Instead, he grabbed the fire extinguisher, lifting it over his head, and rushed to where his teammate stood at his locker. At the last possible moment, as Dom swung the bottom edge of the cylinder at Jim's head, Jim turned slightly and raised his arm to deflect the blow. Dom's momentum won out and, with a sickening crunch, Jim fell to the floor. Dom stood over Jim's still body for a second, sweat stinging his eyes. He dropped the heavy extinguisher and again his hand reached for his pistol.

Dom ran into the armory, took an M16 from the rack and two spare magazines. Without a look back at his prone friend, he sprinted up the steps and out of the building.

#

TJ finished his first beer and glanced at his own watch. He looked out the window and down the sidewalk where Jim should be coming, seeing no one. He sighed loudly and laid his money on the table. Once outside, he, too, jogged back to the precinct.

Halfway down the steps, TJ saw Jim lying in front of his locker. He looked like he was trying to get up, but not doing too well at it.

"Jim!" TJ called, jumping the last three steps.

Jim moaned and had his hand pressed to his head above his ear. Blood smeared his hand, ear, and neck.

"Holy shit, Jim," TJ exclaimed. "What happened?" He helped Jim sit up with his back against the lockers.

"Dom," Jim said, his head swimming. "Dom hit me with something."

TJ whirled around, shielding Jim, and scanned the room. Not seeing Dom, he made his way over to Harrelson's office and searched in there, finding nothing. TJ swept through the desk area and headed for the armory. He noticed immediately that a weapon was missing and extra ammo. Dom was nowhere to be seen.

TJ returned to find Jim attempting to stand. TJ pulled a chair over and guided the swaying Jim into it.

"Sit tight," TJ told Jim. "I need to call the lieutenant."

#

"Thanks, Betty," Deke said as he took the glass of beer from Hondo Harrelson's wife. He turned back to Hondo. "So what was the invite for?"

"What do I ever drag you over here to talk about?" Harrelson asked.

"Okay, which one of them did what?" Deke laughed.

Harrelson got up and paced around the table. "Jim Street."

Watching Harrelson closely, Deke said, "What did he do?"

Harrelson stopped, his hand jangled change in his pocket. "Does he remind you of anyone?"

Deke put his beer down and straightened up in his chair. He watched as Harrelson started pacing again. "Maybe," he said. "Not me. I was never that good looking."

Harrelson laughed and sat down again. "Don't we all wish." He took a swig of his beer. "I sent him into that house alone this morning."

"I noticed that," Deke said.

"I just didn't trust Luca enough yet." Harrelson leaned back in his chair. "I didn't like making that call but I didn't have much choice."

"It worked out," Deke said.

"You read Street's report?" Harrelson asked.

"Yeah," Deke nodded, "his usual thorough job."

"You noticed that he made the decision to take the gunman out."

Deke leaned forward. "What are you getting at?"

Harrelson stood again. "That he made the right decision at the right time taking into account what the situation showed him."

Deke leaned back and smiled. "So you're seeing him as a young Hondo Harrelson?"

Waving his hand dismissively, Harrelson said, "Similarities. Only similarities."

"Right," Deke agreed. "There can only be one Hondo."

"That bank robbery went too smooth, don't you think?" Harrelson said, redirecting the subject.

"We can't rightly complain about that, can we?" Deke asked.

"No, no complaints. More like mind-boggling." Harrelson paced again.

"It was genius," Deke said. "The only chance of getting all the hostages out alive."

"It was crazy, Deke. Crazy. You all had nowhere to go if things went sour. You were trapped." Harrelson ran his hand through his hair.

"Is this about the men or you, Hondo?"

Letting out a deep breath, Harrelson said, "Both, I guess." He sat down again. "This crew is so good I'm afraid I'm taking unreasonable risk with them."

"I was in the ductwork in that bank, Hondo. It was a beautifully engineered and executed plan." He held up his hand when Harrelson started to speak. "Maybe with different personnel it wouldn't have worked. But you knew you could trust us – knew we'd make it work."

"What if I get that wrong?" Harrelson argued.

"Then I'll tell you to make another plan," Deke said. "I've got your back."

Betty Harrelson rushed out to the patio with Harrelson and Deke. "Dan, TJ is on the phone. He says it's urgent."

#

"First," TJ reported to Harrelson, "Dom said he didn't want to go to Crazy Mary's with us. He said he was tired and wanted to finish his reports."

"That's a red flag right there," Harrelson interrupted.

"I didn't really forget my watch," a cleaned up and much steadier Jim reported. "I said I did so that I could check up on Dom. I felt bad leaving him here."

"You shoulda said something, Jim," TJ said. I would've come back with you. It was bugging me, too."

"I thought I could convince him to join us." Jim shrugged.

"That's when you heard the phone ring?" Harrelson asked.

"Yeah. I figured we'd be heading out or his mother was calling again," Jim answered. "But he didn't say anything. Not one word."

"Then you came downstairs," prompted Harrelson.

"Yeah, after he hung up." Jim looked up at Harrelson. "It didn't seem right. Kinda creepy."

"So you waltzed right on down here." Harrelson stated.

"Yes, sir, I did." Jim looked between Harrelson and Deke. "It was Dom."

"Then what?" Harrelson started pacing.

"Dom was standing by his desk with a blank look on his face. His eyes looked different."

"Different? How?" demanded Harrelson.

"They were dull, flat," Jim described. "The Dom spark was gone."

Harrelson frowned. "Then what?"

"I went to my locker, pretending to get my watch. I asked Dom to join us, again." Agitation edged into Jim's voice. "I started to turn around. I heard footsteps, shuffling. And I got clocked."

"That's when you came in, McCabe?" Harrelson asked.

"A little after, I guess. Dom was gone by the time I figured out Jim was later than he should be."

"Where was Street when you got here?"

"In front of his locker, getting up," TJ said.

The getting up part was a stretch and Jim sent TJ an appreciative glance.

"I swept the room, your office, and the armory," TJ continued. "No Dom, but I found a missing M16 and two mags, and then I called you."

"Did Luca say anything about what he was doing or where he was going?" Harrelson asked.

"Not that I heard," Jim said. "He didn't say anything."

"I think our boy left us a message." Deke picked up the piece of paper on the floor by Dom's desk.

Harrelson joined Deke. "What is it?"

"Your notice on the Blackstone escort job. The sheriff department is moving him from the safe-house into town tonight for his testimony Friday."

"I'll call the safe-house. You get the sheriff and tell him we will be out there," ordered Harrelson as he ran into his office.

"Can we do that?" Jim asked TJ.

TJ shrugged. "I think Hondo Harrelson can do pretty much whatever he wants."

"You okay?" Harrelson pointed at Jim.

"Yes, sir," Jim answered.

"Let's go."

#

"There's a lot of wooded area around this house. With the M16, Luca's range is somewhat limited for an accurate hit," instructed Harrelson as they geared up in the back of the War Wagon.

"This is our teammate," Deke said. "We don't know what his agenda is or how out of control he is. I know it's going to be extremely hard to draw down on him." Deke looked at TJ and then Jim. "We can't let him hurt anyone."

"He had his gun at the office," Jim said. "He didn't shoot me."

"He left us that clue, too," TJ added.

"We think it's a clue," cautioned Harrelson.

The lengthy ride to the safe-house location was mostly quiet. Lt. Harrelson had some radio traffic and there were brief conversations over strategy. The War Wagon ran non-Code Three, reflecting the inside silence.

When Sam stopped the van, the team didn't rush out the back. They stepped out into the night. Twenty yards behind them sat Dom's car, hastily parked with the front partially in the bushes.

Harrelson assigned each man a different area to scout. He tapped his belt radio to indicate using the standard radio signals for spotting Dom – one short squawk for Harrelson, one long for Deke, two longs for Street, and three shorts if TJ found him.

#

Hindered with blurring and double vision, Jim slowed. His breathing was heavy when he shouldn't even be winded. He stumbled often, but kept moving.

TJ moved like lightening. He zigged and zagged through his assigned area, pausing at times to listen. He used more caution when he reached the house. With unparalleled stealth, he crept around the house, checking around and through the bushes.

Rounding a shed, Deke could just make out TJ's form as he crossed behind the house – and only because he knew what he was looking for. He looked out across the property and tried to visualize four elite policemen looking for one other that didn't want to be found. With a heavy sigh, he resumed his own search.

Harrelson let his instincts lead him. He ran from one random location to another. He listened often, attempting to discern the natural night sounds from any man made ones.

Dom Luca's stomach ached. Sweat stung his eyes. The dark was disorienting. He stared at the bright windows in the house, waiting for the people to exit. As soon as the people left the house, he could shoot them and go home. He wanted to throw up. Tree bark stabbed in his back, making his skin itch. Soon, he thought, soon.

Jim had been sure that his head was harder than that fire extinguisher. The thousand drums pounding inside his skull told him otherwise. Leaning against a tree, he sank to his knees. He'd rest for just a minute before going on. He could see the house, its lights burning into his dilated pupils.

It looked like an owl sitting up in the tree in front of Jim. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Now there were two owls. His heart nearly stopped when he realized it was Dom in the tree, not a bird. As quietly as he could, he stood, crouching behind his tree. Obviously, Dom was watching the house. Jim's hand fumbled with his radio and he pressed the button for two long squawks, alerting the others he had Dom in sight. Since they knew his assigned area, they would flock this way.

Eying his tree, Jim saw a heavy branch that crossed over close to Dom's tree. Against his better judgment, he rested his rifle against the tree trunk and swung onto a lower branch. Freezing after every move, he watched for any sign of movement from Dom.

Inching across the branch, Jim barely dared breathe. His vision tunneled, whether from his head injury or intense concentration on this task, he didn't know – or care at this point.

Only three feet behind Dom, Jim saw movement. With jerky motion, Dom withdrew his pistol. Jim froze. Dom's back was still to him so he didn't think he'd been seen.

Dom's stomach clinched painfully. He shook so badly he thought he'd fall from the tree. His head pounded unmercifully. Unable to stand what was happening to him, he drew his gun. He would end this pain and confusion one way or another. He had to shoot someone. He knew who that had to be now.

Even in the dark, Jim saw Dom's shaking hand raise the pistol. Dom didn't point it toward Jim or the house.

"No!" Jim yelled and jumped the three-foot gap. He struck Dom's back at the same time the gun shot. Blinded by the flash, he didn't see the ground rushing at them as they tumbled out of the tree.


	5. Chapter 5

Pacing the waiting room at Valley Hospital, Harrelson sorted through the information that the doctor had just relayed. Best of all was that both Luca and Street were doing well and only being kept overnight for observation. The details were a bit more involved.

According to the doctor, Luca's brainwashing or hypnotism was triggered by voice and would wear off quickly. Harrelson shook his head over the extreme conflict the young man had to have experienced.

"Penny for your thoughts," Deke said.

Harrelson stopped pacing. "Just thoughts about that hard-headed Street going out with his head nearly cracked and finding Dom, keeping him safe. He should've been in the hospital already."

"Uh-huh," Deke nodded. "He's reminding me more and more of somebody I know well."

"And Luca." Harrelson started his pacing again. "He fought through what that woman did to him – he left us clues. He didn't do her bidding."

"Don't forget McCabe," Deke said.

"Oh, he's not nearly as innocent as he pretends." Harrelson stopped again. "He's in there with the other two and won't budge. He should go home and rest."

"He remembered the license plate on that woman's Jag," Deke reminded Harrelson. "SFPD stopped her and found enough drugs and weapons in the car to put her away for a long time."

"She's a granddaughter in the Cestino Family," Harrelson recalled, "and did her best to silence Mr. Blackstone. Now, with his testimony later today, three at the top of the Cestino Family will be joining her behind bars."

Harrelson sat beside his friend. "What am I going to do, Deke? What have I done?"

"What do you mean, Hondo?"

Waving his hand in the direction of the hospital room his men occupied, Harrelson said, "With them."

"Oh, that's an easy one, Hondo." Deke laughed lightly.

"Really?"

"Oh, yes." Deke looked Harrelson in the eyes. "We're gonna kick crime butt!"


End file.
